


Our Own Side

by n2natalie



Category: Broadchurch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n2natalie/pseuds/n2natalie
Summary: A narrative of Hardy and Miller's friendship, spanning from Joe's arrest to Hardy's departure after Sandbrook. It's based loosely around that wonderful "we're on our own side" motif from Good Omens, because who doesn't like a very gentle almost-crossover.
Relationships: Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Our Own Side

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a huge fan of series 3, so I really only wrote this to cover series 1-2, but I have been fiddling around with a few scenes that would take place during 3 though, so who knows, maybe I'll add some more later.
> 
> Also this really has nothing to do with Good Omens, other than the fact that I thought that line would be fun to play with in a Hardy x Miller context. Some general dialogue is borrowed from Broadchurch, but I didn't actually go watch the scenes, so if it happens to be verbatim it's just a coincidence.

_Oh, bloody hell_ , she thought to herself, sitting in Hardy’s hotel room at the Traders. She collapsed back into her chair. They’d been talking about Joe, why he’d done what he’d done, how she hadn’t seen it, how she couldn’t have. She’d been recounting her confrontation with Beth, and the words had come out of her mouth without her consent. It was as if they’d come from some place entirely else.

“You’re all I’ve got left”, she’d said, eyes glued to the stained hotel carpeting. She’d meant it, she knew that. Lucy and Olly were there, on her side, Tom and Fred as well, but those weren’t people who could understand her. All they could do was sympathize and support, but not understand, not really. Hardy had been there through it all; he was the one to figure it out, to tell her, and he was the one who had to watch the realization play out across her face. What’s more, she’d read the _Echo’s_ story on Sandbrook. She knew that, even if the caliber wasn’t nearly the same, that he knew what it was like to be betrayed by a spouse. To be blindsided like that, and then face the punishment for something he hadn’t done but that somehow felt deserved, nonetheless.

She gave a disgruntled sigh as she saw the world she’d known fall even further from her grasp; she didn’t think that was possible. Ever since Hardy had come to Broadchurch, he’d been the outsider and she’d been the one on the inside, part of the community. It was what defined them and separated them, but ultimately what made their unlikely pairing work. Broadchurch was her _identity_ , as much as Hardy’s foreignness was his. And now here she was, lined up on his side of the playing field, the side she’d always taken pride in not being a part of.

It was like he’d read her mind to find the words she least wanted to hear, and then decided to say them anyway.

“We’re on our own side now, Miller.”

That was a bloody joke, or salt in the wound, whatever you wish to call it. And it brought fresh tears to her eyes to hear it, and then to agree. To fall helplessly into acceptance that this was her new reality. Her and Hardy against the world, more or less. She couldn’t bear that, not even if he really was all she had left. She could never be like him.

* * *

“What will you do?”, he asked, keeping his gaze straight ahead. The salty wind of the sea blew his hair across his face, and he ran a hand through it to brush it back. His pinched scowl and slight build bundled up against the chill gave him the appearance of a pigeon perched on a ledge.

“Go somewhere else”, she replied, doing her best to keep her voice steady and detached. She was anything but alright with the idea of leaving Broadchurch, this place was her home, but she had to. It’d only been three days since the news broke about Joe, and being an outsider in her own life had already begun to take its toll on her.

“Where’ll you go?”

“I was thinking Devon”, she mused. She’d already decided, to tell the truth, but she didn’t like the idea of revealing how much thought she’d given to her escape. Devon was close to home, but not too close. “I can already feel Tom slipping away”, she confided with an exhausted sigh. “He was doing all right, all things considered, for about a day, but I can tell it makes him anxious to be around me now. He’s spending as much time with Lucy and Olly as he can.” She paused to fiddle with her zipper. “I think it’s best just to get away for a bit.” She didn’t mention that the town itself was suffocating her, nor the feeling of doom that descended upon her every time she realized that, if she wanted a breath of fresh air, to see a new face, her only option left was Hardy. Sure, they’d grown closer, _bonded_ even, over the course of the investigation, but she needed something else, something new.

“Just, don’t leave him for too long”, he warned in his new soft, good-cop voice that she hated as much as she appreciated. She thought back to his daughter and privately reminded herself to heed his words.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around”, she huffed as she stood to take her leave. She had some packing to do. She was planning to head out sooner rather than later. “Oh, and”, she added, turning around to him once more. “Er, thanks. For, well, you know”, she trailed off, waving her hand vaguely through the air. It seemed a bit morose to thank him for solving the case of her husband the murderer, but it was about more than that, and she knew he knew.

He gave her a curt nod. “See you, Miller. Take care of yourself.”

And with that she turned her back to him and was gone. As Hardy sat, looking out at the waves, he tried not to take it personally. He’d meant what he’d said: they _were_ on their own side. Unfortunate outcasts and collateral damage, but he wasn’t going to force that on her. Her identity was hers to rebuild, and if she didn’t want him to be part of that, that was her decision to make. So much had gone out of her control, she deserved to decide her own future now.

* * *

It wasn’t long until she found herself back in Broadchurch. She’d gotten herself a job as a beat cop in Devon, driving around the gloomy countryside and giving out traffic violations. But now she was back. She’d initially come for the beginning of Joe’s trial, despite Hardy’s repeated warnings against showing her face. He’d been right in retrospect; the day had not passed without its drama, but it felt good to be back. Devon, in all of its unfamiliarity, had not given her the new start she’d hoped for. If anything, it had made her feel worse, being away from her boys and her town, even if they wanted nothing to do with her.

Joe’s plea of innocence had sent her spiraling for the better half of a day, but Hardy was right behind her for all of it. Despite the fact that she’d pushed away his dismal attempts at comfort, she’d allowed herself a small smile on her way out of the Ladies’ at his effort. As much as she hated it, that stupid, grouchy, familiar face was what she’d needed to see.

So, when he finally came to her to ask for her help with Sandbrook, she wasn’t as hesitant as she might once have been. He’d already dragged her halfway into it anyway, hadn’t he?

“Miller, please”, he pleaded, eyes wide, staring into her soul and out the other side. “I can’t do this alone. I need your help.” 

She’d never seen him like this, so ready to ask for help, and he was doing so without shame. She found herself unpredictably flattered, beneath her habitual frustration, that he believed in her enough to ask this of her. When had they gotten here? _How?_ It felt like only last week that he was berating her naïve approach to detective work. But then again, her life had been changing so quickly that time itself barely felt real anymore.

If she’d asked him, she’d have known that when he first came to Broadchurch, he realized he’d never found another DS so on the same wavelength as him after Tess. His hope at finding another one had all but vanished during the beginning of the Latimer case, what with he and Miller’s approaches to detective work grating against each other like sandpaper. But she’d also know that it was the day she’d discovered Danny’s mobile was unaccounted for that he’d thought he might have finally found another one. She’d know that by the end of the investigation he’d realized: _Oh, it’s Miller. It was always going to be Miller_.

But instead she waited, like she knew what was coming next.

“We’re on our own side here, Miller. I _need_ someone on my side for this. Please, Ellie.”

There it was. The old phrase that had once sent her running all the way to bloody Devon. But today had been a hard day. She’d been kicked to the ground by the town, by Beth, by the defence once again, and he was using it to his advantage. But she found she didn’t mind so much this time.

As he looked at her, waiting for her response, Hardy knew he was the only one left in her corner, and he knew she needed the distraction. He’d made the mistake of isolating himself after Sandbrook, and while he couldn’t fix the decisions he’d made, he could still try and stop her from making the same ones.

She hadn’t expected him to use her first name though. The last time he’d done that was when he told her about Joe. The force of not only the memory, but the intimacy of his word choice brought that familiar sting to her eyes that warned of oncoming tears.

“Alright, fine, I’ll help you”, she sighed, keeping her tone clipped to hide how moved she really found herself. Since when had disgruntled become her default? It didn’t matter much; her eyes gave her away. They always did.

“Thank you, Miller”, Hardy sighed, the relief in his voice palpable. He grabbed her elbow. “Now come on, we gotta go.” He was able to hide the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth until he’d turned around.

* * *

How she’d ended up lying next to him on a hotel bed in Sandbrook was beyond her. It had involved a bit of bickering, threats from both of them to sleep in the car, and, due to vehement rejections of the other’s offer, had ended in a displeased agreement to just suck it up and get some rest.

She waited until she heard Hardy’s breathing get slow and heavy before letting herself relax into sleep. She didn’t want him to hear her snore. She was just about drifting off when violent coughing from the other side of the bed jolted her upright.

Hardy was suddenly up and heaving for breath between choking coughs. All she could do in her bewilderment was to put a hand on his shoulder and to ask if he was alright.

“’M fine, ‘m okay”, he managed to hiss as he tried for air. He could sense the panic radiating from Ellie and tried to offer up an explanation to appease her. “It’s not my heart, just a dream”, he squeezed out. She could tell he was trying his best to steady his voice, but the shaky rasp it came out as only heightened her concern.

“Are you sure? Should we get you to hospital? I can get the car”, she offered. She reached for his hand as she’d done when he collapsed in the boat yard to feel for a pulse. Still strong, that was a good sign, just rapid. To her surprise, however, he gripped her hand in return.

“It’s alright, Miller”, he sighed, voice still tight but finally able to fill his lungs. “I just, get these nightmares sometimes.” She could tell he was keeping his answers short and topical in an attempt to keep himself from getting worked up. When she felt the urge to cry it was her eyes that gave her away, her tears that she had to hold back, but for Hardy it was in his throat, like he had to physically swallow the emotions back down.

“What do you see?”, she asked tentatively. She didn’t want to push him too far, but she’d learned from experience that holding these things inside didn’t help much either. She had her therapist to thank for that. To her surprise, she wasn’t met with the silence she was expecting.

“It’s always Pippa”, he breathed. “I see her, and the pendant. I see the inside of that bloody car; I know it better than my own. And I see the river. Her-”, he cut himself off, his voice faltering. He convulsed next to her, attempting to hold in a sob she could tell was trying to wrack his body.

“C’mere”, she said softly, pulling his head onto her chest. She held him and ran a hand through his messy, limp hair. When a few hours ago she had been uncomfortable only lying next to him, she surprised herself with how alright this now felt. Almost normal.

She looked down at him and felt pity. Pity was such a condescending feeling. She expected to feel empathy, sure, to feel sorry for him, but not this.

But she saw herself in him, she realized. She could remember countless nights since Joe’s arrest that she’d cried herself to sleep, alone in her bed. She knew the guilt and pain Hardy was feeling all too well. _But this is what made him ill_ , she reminded herself. It was pity she felt for him because he’d isolated himself, forced himself into solitary suffering. He’d taken on that guilt as penance, pushed himself to his breaking point, and that instinct was alive in her too. It scared her now. There was always a part of her that felt she deserved this pain for not seeing what was right in front of her. That she, too, deserved to suffer alone. But she could see now, in the quivering figure lying in her arms, what that did to a person, and she wouldn’t let that happen to her.

She’d left Broadchurch in the first place because she feared becoming like Hardy, but leaving only made certain that this would be her fate. She finally understood: she needed to be on his side because she needed him on hers. And she bet he knew that. That’s why he’d pushed her to help him with Sandbrook, because he couldn’t watch her make the same mistakes he had. Some of that compassion that belonged to the man who’d taken the fall for Tess was finally peeking through. But she also realized that he needed her as much as she needed him. It wasn’t too late for either of them yet.

“Hardy”, she whispered. His breathing had finally slowed but she could feel he was still awake.

“Mm?” he hummed in response.

“You aren’t alone in this. None of us are.” She’d meant _neither of us_ , but it felt like too much. She knew he’d know what she meant.

“I hope you’re right, Miller”, he muttered hoarsely. She realized he hadn’t. Or maybe he was being purposefully dense. She knew what he wanted to hear.

“I mean it”, she pushed, sinking down into a sleeping position, making sure to keep her arms around him. “We’re on our own side now, and I’m not giving up. On the case or on you.”

He didn’t reply, but she could feel his relief as some of the tension left his body. She knew she’d said the right thing. They were going to be alright.

* * *

Sandbrook was finished and Hardy was leaving. _It only makes sense_ , she told herself. He’d done what he came to do, and now it was time for him to take his leave. It had all worked out in the end, for both of them. She had her boys back and her friendship with Beth was on the mend, the town didn’t reject her so much anymore. And Hardy, well, he’d wrapped up the case that had been plaguing him for years. He’d gotten his pacemaker put in; he was healthy and ready to take on whatever laid ahead. He said he was going home to try and fix his relationship with Daisy, but she’d overheard him asking Tess to give him another chance, and she knew that Daisy wasn’t all he was trying to repair.

She was proud of him. He was taking his life back just like he’d made sure she’d done, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment from herself. _We were a team_ , she thought as she stood in Hardy’s tiny blue house, watching him zip up his last bag. _We were on our own side_. She knew those sides didn’t exist anymore and their time together was at a natural end, but just because she didn’t _need_ him around anymore didn’t mean she didn’t want him there.

“You don’t have to wait for the taxi with me”, he said as he placed his last bag down.

“Right, then I’ll be off”, she replied. She was keeping things short again, trying not to reveal how much she was feeling. She couldn’t bring herself to walk to the door just yet, though, so she waited. Hardy looked back at her.

“Thank you, Ellie. I couldn’t have done this without you”, he finally murmured, an odd smile playing on his face that looked almost like a grimace.

“And you didn’t”, she returned, trying to cover her shaking voice with a meek laugh. “Right, well”, she finished, sticking her hand out for a handshake.

“A handshake?”, he questioned. She ignored the disappointment in his voice.

“Not hugging you.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hug him, they just never had, not really, and starting now would only hurt more. They’d never verbalized that night in Sandbrook, but it lingered over them like an unspoken understanding that things had shifted, that they were more aligned than ever. He’d somehow become the beacon of comfort and familiarity that she’d been craving so desperately. And then there had been nights afterwards, while they were finishing the case, going over files together on his couch, where she’d found herself wishing that if only the couch were smaller, if she could just be nearer to him. But instead here they were, having a handshake. She couldn’t do it to herself.

Their hands came together, and for a moment she let herself go back to the last time she’d held his hand in hers, that night in the hotel. _I don’t need him anymore_ , she reminded herself. That’s all it was: dependence, and dependence was the hinderance to growth.

She went to pull away, but he held on, and again it was like he’d read her mind and decided to say the one thing she didn’t want to hear spoken.

“You’re back on _your_ side now, Miller. You’ve got your boys, your town. Now I’ve gotta go get back on mine.” She knew he’d meant it to be comforting, but it felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart. She only nodded in response.

“Take care of yourself”, she added, dropping her hand and finally heading for the door. She turned around with one foot out of the house. “And call!”

And with that she was gone. As she walked away from that shitty blue, familiar house, she passed the taxi coming to take Hardy away from it, too.


End file.
